


Never Again

by SparkleDragons



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animal Death, Cutting, Depression, Gen, Hunting, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkleDragons/pseuds/SparkleDragons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One dark season’s equinox ago I, Redglare, was assigned my first official investigational mission. I will account the accurate details of what truly occurred. This text is solely for the eyes of myself and those without fear of highblood persecution. Or those who wish to know the truth of our history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry 1-Date: 11.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of stuff going on so updates could range from every 2 weeks to once every 2 months. So. Yea. Hope you enjoy! (The length of the first 3 entries are pretty short but they get much longer after that)
> 
> the date stands for: 11th Bilunar Perigee/3rd Dark Season's Equinox/1524 Condescension (sweeps of HIC's rule)

One dark season’s equinox ago I, Redglare, was assigned my first official investigational mission by my instructor, Pedagogu Justview. If all went well, I expected to claim the title of Neophyte, the first rank a Legislacerator gains. I currently write this with the newfound title of Neophyte Redglare. From my superior’s view, the mission, although lasting longer than expected and experiencing some unforeseen details, was successful. Over the next couple of of bilunar perigees, I will account the accurate details of what truly occurred, including that which I left out in my official reports. This text is solely for the eyes of myself and those without fear of highblood persecution. Or those who wish to know the truth of our history.

 

My assignment began normally. I was to look into the reported attacks by a rouge troll in the eastern quadrant of the third forestal mass. The attacks were centered in what is known to the locals as the Burning Forest. Records of assaults in that area spanned sweeps before my hatching. No attacks occurred below my own blood range. Few had been fatal and those that were never spilled blood higher than cobalt, until the day of my assignment.

 

Seven bilunar perigees before the Legislacerators took interest in the case, a drunken purple blood from the Grand High Blood’s own quart was reported seen wandering into the aqua trees. Three bilunar perigees later, he was found dead from multiple scratch and stab wounds. There was reportedly a stick protruding from his side and his hands were both cut off at the writs. This was by far the most aggressive attack seen to that day, and to a highblood no less. Some argued it was an unfortunate encounter with a beast, those who had seen the records knew better. 

 

It was agreed that leaving a rouge troll powerful and daring enough to down a purple blood, could no longer remain unchecked. However, as no highblood wished to encounter the troll for themselves, it was left upon the Legislacerator recruits, of which I drew the shortest knife. I was not concerned as completion of this mission offered gaining a higher rank.

 

My job was simple, locate the aggressor and take them in for questioning. After this, judgment would be carried out by His Honorable Tyranny. The punishment would most definitely be death lest they reveal themselves to be royalty, in which case an exception would be highly likely to be made.

 

I began my investigation in a village located on the outside edge of the forest. An area inhabited mostly by olive bloods and below, I regrettably stood out and was largely avoided.

 

It became required for me to involve the law of my blood in order to get one of the more troublesome gold bloods at the tavern to cooperate. I remember he wore bland, dark cloths under a ragged and dirty cloak in his blood. His symbol, which resembled a jagged line with a cross over one end, was displayed in black on his hood. His horns angled forward before curving back again. I assumed he possessed no phiioniics or at the very least had the physical bonus of being able to hide them. Throughout our conversation he glared at my bright colors in disgust, a detail I chose to ignore at the time.

 

I inquired as to what he knew about the recent attacks and he simply went on record in saying, and I quote, “Don’t go a-looken for them, Teal Blood. They ain’t kind to those with yu’r esteemed ranken.” He hissed the word ‘esteemed’, yet another trait I chose to ignore.

 

It was at this point I decided this troll would be of no further help to me and moved on to the bartender. He was an older, for his caste, pot bellied, olive blood, with long, spiraled horns and a friendly aura about him. He was surprisingly pleasant to me in a way that I did not perceive as false or forced. It was a kindness I was happy to return.

 

He told me the town thinks of the rouge as a guardian of sorts. “She helps to defend the weak from those who wish harm on them,” he stated. It was clear his statement of ‘those who would wish harm’ was in reference to highbloods. Although he did give important information that the rouge was female. This, I suspected from the start due to her apparent hyper-aggressive nature.

 

I sought conference with three other trolls, a bronze blood, another gold blood, and a second olive blood. Each gave the information that the rouge had never been seen clearly enough to identify a sign, that she was an olive blood, and that her weapons of choice were claws. I however suspected the second olive blood, by far the eldest of those questioned, was hiding information. I chose not to press as reasons for legally withholding information are many at the caste just below my own.

 

As investigation led nowhere, I decided to venture into the forest for myself, a foolish choice in hindsight considering the minimal information I had to go on. The sound of the pink leaves blowing in the high lunar wind was comforting and I could hear the sounds of many of Alternia’s forest-dwelling beasts.

 

I could not possibly have been walking for more than an hour when a low growling coming from above caught my attention. I immediately equipped my cane swords although they proved to be of little use. Within seconds, the delusional olive blood sprang from the trees and directly on to my back. I ungracefully crashed face-first into the ground, regrettably breaking my glasses. She proceeded to unmercifully dig her claws into my back as I struggled to regain control. Throughout the ordeal I vaguely recall her mumbling something akin to counting, although I can not be sure even now.

 

Why she stopped, I do not know, but suddenly, as if it had never happened, the weight on my back lifted and there were no longer blades being run down my spine. I groaned as I rolled over only barely in time to see a lithe shape disappear into the foliage. I do not know precisely how long I lay there for, however the slow decent of the moons soon convinced me to gather myself, lest I be caught in the blaze of the sun.

 

I stumbled back to the village, where I was even more avoided than previously, and took a room in the nearest inn. I regretted leaving teal stains behind in the lobby for someone else to clean, but I had more important matters to attend to.

 

When I reached my room I immediately dressed my wounds using the meager supplies I had in my sylladex. The blood quickly soaked through the bandages in places were the wounds cut deeper or in higher quantities. I decided it was best to allow it to heal over night before properly inspecting it in the morning.

 

I was from the point on, incredibly intrigued by the strange olive blood who lived in the Burning Forest. The deranged troll who fearlessly attacked highbloods from the trees and made sure to never be accurately seen became the focus of my thoughts. I did not hate her as I expected to. I did not feel an overwhelming need to bring her to justice as I expected I would. I only wanted to know more. It would be this drive of curiosity that led to the events I can not share with my peers.

 

Perhaps things would have been easier if I had simply captured her and allowed her to face execution, but that is not what happened and things will never again be the same.


	2. Entry 2-Date: 13.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

I woke the next bilinear perigee to the sharp stinging across my back. I remember that clearly. It felt like a two-mouthed cat beast had used me as a toy. I suppose one did in a way. I would not let the pain keep me in my recuperacoon all night, though. I gritted my teeth and pulled myself out, rather ungracefully slumping to the floor. As I stood I recall more pain shooting up and down my spine. That was one of my worse dusks I’ve had in a long time. 

 

I used my swords as an actual cane for once and made my way over to the small, shower provided for washing off residue sopor slime. I regrettably had to sit under the water as I didn’t wish to rust my weapon and had not yet recovered well enough to stand without decent support. I suppose the bilunar perigee before my body must have been blocking most of the pain from processing. That’s probably for the best.

 

Once the majority of the slime was down the drain, I carefully removed the bandages around my upper body and turned, rather uncomfortably, to look in the mirror at the damage. A few cuts still had fresh little drips of teal on the edges. I assume my wash must have reopened a few places. For the most part, though, the cuts had sealed up on their own. I believe I can thank the thin nature of the claws that I didn’t need stitches.

 

I carefully ran my hand down a few of the marks, a habit that seems to have stayed with me even today. Many of the marks left scars. My back looks as if I’ve received lashes myself and  am not the one assigning them. But that is not of consequence. 

 

I delicately reapplied bandages and pulled my cloths on. The process took longer than I would have liked thanks to the added effort given to not further re-open wounds. It was at that point I decided to return to the forest. If I was going to learn anything about this troll, I figured I’d need to make her remember my face. Leaving such a large gap between visits to heal would be counterproductive. I sure had the mind of a wiggler, always looking at things as if I were in an adventure novel. Perhaps I still do; I am only eleven sweeps after all.

 

I left my block, still using my cane as support, and went to the bronze blooded receptionistrangle in the front. She eyed me with suspicion, repeatedly glancing at my weapon.

 

“With all due respect, ma’am, are you alright?” she asked me. She added an interesting emphasis to her ‘A’s. “I saw you from the back last night. You were bleeding really heavily.”

 

I glanced at the floor, a gesture I’m sure she didn’t see as I had replaced my broken red-tinted glasses with a spare.

 

“I’m fine,” I replied briskly. I wanted to get out into the forest sooner rather than later and didn’t feel like arguing over my wellbeing with a orange blood. “I apologize for the mess and the,” I turned to look behind myself at the faded spots of teal on the ground, “stains.” I reached into my sylladex and pulled out some change. I handed it to the receptionistrangle and said, “Here’s my rent and some extra as compensation.”

 

“Really ma’am, it’s fine. There’s no need for someone of your blood stature to apologize to a low blood-run place like this,” she replied, hesitant to take the coins.

 

“Please. I did something unfair to you and I will take justice for it. Keep the change,” I replied and left the hive before she could respond. I didn’t have time to argue about it.

 

It was then I realized how hungry I was. I had not eaten since before the encounter. I soon procured a grubloaf at a nearby bakery to satisfy myself.

 

As I walked down the street I could hear trolls whispering. Some voices sounded surprised, some sounded mocking, and still others sounded sad. I think they all expected me to be leaving after the previous night’s encounter. Word must travel fast in a small town when someone stumbles from the forest dripping blood at least two shades higher than everyone else. Their words did not phase me.

 

I did not stop at the edge of the forest. I entered without thinking of the consequences. I quickly located a stick suitable to use as a cane and unequipped my blades. I did not wish to appear threatening, lest I not survive the next attack should there be one.

 

This time, I heard the snarling much sooner. I did not respond aggressively, having learned from my mistakes, and simply said, “I am not here to fight. I only wish to speak with you.”

 

She stopped growling oddly abruptly, but her eyes still bore into my soul. Do not mistake my words. I was afraid. This was a troll who could kill me in a second if she wished. I did not let this fact waver my resolve. I carefully and slowly took a seat in the grass and waited. The world was silent.

 

Nether of us said anything. We both knew the other was there, although only one was able to see their companion. A few times I stretched to keep my back from stiffening and a few times I heard the leaves shift as she did the same, but that was all. 

 

This went on for no less than two hours. Then, I heard the leaves over my head shake and watched as the path of movement traveled off into the depths of the forest. She was gone.

 

I remained sitting in the silence for a while after that. Eventually, however, I got up to leave the forest. I had decided it was best to take things at a slow pace. Of course by that point I was playing with my life like a game piece. One wrong move and I knew this troll would kill me. I was gambling and had no strategy but luck on my side.

 

When I once again arrived at the village, I decided to get a small drink at the tavern I first visited. The bartender seemed confused as to I was still around, wether this was a pleasant surprise or not I could not tell. He handed me my glass and went to tend to other customers without a word. I never spoke with him again.

 

It is rare that I partake in alcohol. It clouds one’s judgement, something I deem highly important. At the time, however, I decided with the night I had had it could not hurt. For all I knew I wouldn’t get another chance.

 

I finished my one glass and left the building, leaving my payment on the counter. I still had not filed a report in and needed to do so, but first I required a place to stay.

 

I found a nice inn run by an olive blood who could almost have been categorized as jade, but I suppose luck just wasn’t in their favor. I rented one of the mid priced blocks and took a seat at the provided desk. I pulled out my computer from my sylladex and wrote my accounts of what had happened. I left out the part about returning and the curiosity I had of the troll.

 

I sent my report to Pedagogu Justview and recaptchalogued my device before tending to my own needs. I carefully undressed so as to change the dressing on my wounds. Once that was complete I pulled out what was left of the grubloaf I had purchased and ate it as a meager dinner. 

 

Then I retired for the day, slipping into the provided recuperacoon, one much larger than the one at the former inn had been. Despite this, I recall my nightmares being rather vivid that night. Although I can’t say what they were about as my memory fails me, I remember the burning.


	3. Entry 3-Date: 14.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

My third day in the low blood town began similarly to the second. I showered off excess soper slime, reapplied new bandages, and left my block. The only difference was I did not check out completely as I left the inn.

 

I again traveled to the bakery from before for my meal. I purchased the grubloaf without further interaction with the staff. As I began towards the trees, a new thought came to mind and I turned back to procure a second loaf. This one I stored safely in my HexCodeModus under #562006.

 

I walked to the forest. There were no more trolls whispering on the sides as I went. The town’s citizens went about their business as normal. The most I got were a few odd glances. It appeared they had mostly gotten used to the sight of me, a fact that would soon change.

 

As I stepped into the tree line, I retrieved a branch in place of my cane once again. I no longer had need to rely on it to carry my weight as greatly, but it had grown to be a comfort. Even now I often keep my cane out as I walk. Old habits die hard I suppose.

 

Before the town completely left my range of vision, I was greeted with a voice above my head. It was rough and primal, as if it had not been used in a long time.

 

“What,” it said, although it sounded more like an aggressive growl than anything. It shook strangely in a way voices do when a troll gets old. At the time I believed this to be impossible that an elderly troll could possess such agility. As trolls age our hard outer skin grows much more fragile and thin. Our inner bones often become weaker. It seemed to me to me unfeasible that a troll with her strength and prowess could possibly be elderly. I was wrong. But I will arrive at that fact at another time.

 

I replied to the troll above that I only wished to talk, as I had mentioned before. I told her that I wished her no harm but of course that was not entirely the truth. She knew this.

 

“Bullshit,” she spat at me. “Only Legislacerators display red and teal so brightly in their cloths. I know why you’ve come here and you can fuck off.”

 

I did not reply. I simply retrieved the second grubloaf I had purchased and placed it on the ground. I took a few steps back and waited. When she did not come to accept the offering, I turned around to face away from her location and took a seat in the dark teal grass. Suddenly the forest seemed quite eerie.

 

There was another pause. Then I listened as a pair of feet landed lightly on the ground. Another pause, then I heard the sound of someone clawing their way up a tree. She was once again out of sight.

 

Remaining seated, I turned myself around. I sat in silence as she ate. Oddly enough I do not recall seeing a single crumb fall. It was then I began to question how savage she truly was. I quickly disregarded the thought. Any troll that would kill with such brutality must be savage. Fool.

 

“Why?” The words were light. They carried a tone I had not yet heard her use. It was confusion? kindness? regret? I can not say. But it was not aggressive.

 

“I thought you may be hungry. If it’s true the town people have not seen you then I figured you hadn’t had a chance for grubloaf in a long time,” I replied.

 

“I can care for myself, teal,” she spat the last word. Any sense of softness was gone.

 

“And yet, you accepted what I brought you,” I retorted. Why I thought it smart to poke the cholerbear, I don't know. Thankfully this did not trigger an attack.

 

I did, however, receive a low hiss in response, followed by a sharp, “Leave.”

 

I complied to her wishes and rose to my feet. The progress I had made that day were suitable enough. Sitting for so long had stiffened my back again and I once again had to rely on my makeshift cane for support.

 

A light snicker came from above. “Nice limp,” she called. The sounds of her traveling back into the depths of the forest rustled through the leaves.

 

I refused to let her mocking words wound my pride. She had harmed me enough. I quickly switched the branch out for my dragon cane and exited the forest.

 

I’ll spare you the details of reading my dusk routine a second time. I did, however, submit another report on my progress. I believe I made up some story about not being able to locate the rouge troll that day. I had not received a response for the previous message. I question weather my papers were being reviewed at all. I assume not. I believe they expected me to die on that mission, so why read a dead troll’s words?

 

Now they certainly do not take my work as lightly. Despite being a simple Neophyte, I am currently one of Alternia’s legal trump cards. My lusus and I make a fearsome team. Or, perhaps, the purple blood quart finds my methods and mannerisms amusing. I get my say in matters regardless so I can not complain. But I digress.

 

I had a rare few nightmares that night. Although as I slipped into the realm of unconsciousness I wondered how the strange troll in the forest fought their visions without the comfort of soper slime.


	4. Entry 4-Date: 15.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. This is about how long chapters will probably be from now on. It will still shift a bit depending since this is written in a one day=one chapter sort of thing but more stuff from here on out. I promise.

I will spare you the evening routine of my fourth day. Nothing changed from the previous night. When I exited the inn I did not have time to obtain breakfast. My mind was instead pulled to the town docks. It was located on the east side of the hives and I had yet to visit it. They were in fact quite out of the way so it surprised me that the commotion was loud enough to draw my attention.

 

One woman’s furious voice called out over the others. I could almost make out her words from where I stood in the street outside the inn.

 

As I walked towards the shouting I equipped my black cloak. It’s something I rarely wear as it conceals the colors of Legislacerators. I have also never bothered to take it to a ragripper to have proper holes made for my horns. On this occasion, however, I did not wish to draw attention to myself right away. Without the red and teal showing as before I blended in quite smoothly. By forcing a few trolls aside I managed to reach a place where I could see what the trouble was.

 

I distinctly remember first the sheer size of the ship. Its largest sail was at least one story taller than the small hives of the town. Flapping in the breeze at the top of the mast was a black flag detailed with a white scull. Two cerulean swords formed a cross behind it. The scull’s horns arched mismatched over it. One, the right, hooked down at the top as the other split into a fine crescent. Pirates

 

It seemed the crowd had formed a ring around two trolls. One, the rather loud woman, wore a large blue-feathered hat from which horns matching the flag protruded. Her coat came down to her mid-thigh and was colored a deep cerulean. She wore bright red boots that were similar to mine. The pattern and shape of the ends of her button up shirt distinctly resembled a spider web.

 

I could only assume she was the scum captain of the ship, a fact that was later confirmed for me. A decent sized group of trolls appearing to be her crew were gathered on the opposite end of the circle to me, closest to the ship. They were all ether jeering the second troll in the ring or cheering their leader on. The cerulean blood was standing over the other troll, a pathetic looking bronze blood. He was holding his hands out in a fearful gesture.

 

Everyone in the crowd was either too scared or enjoying the spectacle too much to intervene. I was not so compliant. I removed my glasses to my sylladex. I did not want them breaking should the encounter go poorly. I did not have a second spare. I pushed into the open space, just as the woman equipped a whip.

 

“And what, pray tell, are you doing, pirate?” I said, spitting the last word. She paused and turned to look at me. I noticed her left eye had seven pupils. She most likely was blessed with vision eightfold, a trait I had only heard tell of, never seen for myself. It was not something comfortable to have staring at you.

 

Not breaking eye contact she said, “You are a teal blood, no? I did not foresee meeting such a high ranking troll in this town. Yet I still rank over you I am afraid. If you must know, this troll with rust in his veins has disappointed me. His lack of knowledge has become his downfall. If you have a quarrel to have with me it will have to wait until after this matter is dealt with.”

 

“You will punish one for their ignorance?” I replied. By this time I had all but completely decided there was no need to bring justice on this troll.

 

“A companion of mine wants information on a particular green blood he claimed could be found in these parts and I will take owed favors any time I am able. This lowblood denies me what I require,” she said as she looked back to the troll.

 

“It does not sound like something worth beating over,” I said. “Wile I agree that ignorance is not something worth celebrating and a troll as low as this one should be more… respectful of trolls of your status, I suggest you move along.”

 

“How about this, my dear, I will give the whelp one final chance. Perhaps he will surprise me.” Her voice was infuriatingly laced with sugar. I could tell just from the tone she was manipulative.

 

“Well, little rust blood? What do you have to say?” she said, taking hold of his shirt collar. She pushed herself right into the helpless troll’s face. I imagine the sight of her long, sharp canines so close to his nose must have been quite frightening.

 

“I-I told you everything already! I swear! She’s in the f-forest somewhere. I-I-I don’t know m-more than that!” He sounded desperate.

 

“Sorry. It seems luck is not in your favor today.” The cerulean brought the whip over her head, ready to strike.

 

Before she could, however, I ran up and grabbed her arm. “If you bring that down I will place you into custody, along with the rest of your crew.”

 

She hesitated and turned to stare at me; there was that eye again. “On what charges?” she hissed, leaning closer. “A troll of my blood punishing a rust blood is not something you can arrest me for. I could preform this act with no reason at all and remain completely blameless. What authority does a teal have over me?”

 

I tightened my grip on her wrist and pulled her in even more. I could smell the alcohol on her breath we were so close. “Try the authority of a Legislacerator. I don’t need to charge you with assault to take you in, despite the fact that that would be my personal reason. Piracy charges are just fine as a cover. I’m sure you must have a bit of a charge on your head with a boat that size.”

 

I would have flashed her a toothy grin had I not been determined to hold my composure. I knew I had her cornered and she did too.

 

Her smug expression darkened, but it was not without amusement I believe. The whip vanished with a digital hum and she pulled her arm out of my hand.

 

“Congratulations, you have surprised me.” She then called to her crew without taking her eyes off me, “We are leaving. Dear Zahhak will just have to make due with knowing she is out there. He will still owe me that favor.”

 

The crew stared at her. One, a teal, like I, started, “But captain-“

 

“I said we are leaving,” she hissed, glaring at the one who spoke out.

 

Her crew, clearly fearful of her wrath, nodded and hustled to the ship. A few of them stumbled on their way which was amusing.

 

“I will be seeing you, Legislacerator,” she said to me before turning to handle her ship.

 

I turned to the rust blood who was still shaking on the ground. I did not bother to soften my expression.

 

He nervously thanked me and pushed himself to his feet. I recall he offered to repay me. I promptly declined. Justice is not something you are repaid for.

 

“Go back to your hive, lowblood,” I commanded him.

 

He shook a bit and ran off. I do hope he made it back alright. I should not have been so cruel.

 

The remaining crowd all shuffled away. I on the other hand did not move from the location until the pirate ship was gone. I stood and stared as they prepared to set sail. As soon as it was far enough on the horizon for me to feel confidant that it was not returning, I turned away and replaced my glasses. I unequipped my hood and started towards the forest. I had things to do and it was already past midnight.

 

The moment I reached the tree line, the troll’s voice came from above.

 

“What was that about?”

 

I kept walking, forcing the woman to follow me from above should she choose to continue talking. “The lowblood did not need to be punished for anything so I put a stop to it. It was not important. Besides, I despise pirates.”

 

“You don’t think the troll deserved to be whipped for not doing as the cerulean asked? Her blood color was way cooler than his.”

 

“No. Justice should not always bend like that.”

 

She was silent. The only thing that told me she was still there was the sound of leaves moving as she followed me.

 

“Stop,” she said suddenly. I did.

 

I waited a moment, then heard a soft thud as she landed behind me.

 

“If that’s really how you feel, it’s only fair we speak face to face, don’t you think. But know that if you make a single move I perceive as even slightly aggressive I won’t hesitate to go for your neck.”

 

“That sounds fair,” I replied, a little nervous now.

 

“Then turn around.”

 

I did so slowly, putting my cane away as I did. I had forgotten to switch it out and did not want such a silly error to be the reason for my death.

 

I was greeted by something I did not expect.

 

She was short, only coming up to my eyes if you didn’t include her horns. Her hair was long and matted. It had not been brushed in a very long time. Her eyes were deep olive and edged with red. The pupils were dilated practically to slits. Her cloths were filthy but I could vaguely make out old, swirling, olive patterns. I could still not distinguish a sign as her cloths were horridly torn by sweeps of wear. Her face and bare feet were equally scarred. One eye was almost sealed shut by a wound. She had the pelt of some furry beast wrapped over her shoulders. Its head was being used as a hood and going off the teeth did not look like something I would ever personally like to encounter.

 

She stood tall and powerful, with only her horns attesting her age. They were cat-like and curved up far above her head, allowing her total height to surpass mine. She was old and did not look like she took very good care for herself. It made her look utterly feral.

 

“It’s rude to stare,” she said bitterly.

 

“My apologies, err” I replied turning my attention to the grass.

 

“My name’s Meulin. Meulin Leijon. And you?”

 

“Redglare.”

 

“No. That’s not your name. That’s your ridiculous title. What’s your name?”

 

“Oh please. You cannot tell me you do not have a title of your own.”

 

“I had one once, but it has long since lost its meaning. Besides, I have never referred to the trolls I know by their titles. What is you name?”

 

I paused. I didn’t know whether it would be smart to tell her or not. Eventually I caved. “I am Latula Pyrope.”

 

“Much nicer than Redglare, Latula,” she said as she sat down. She sat cross-legged. Her posture was surprisingly perfect.

 

“Alright Leijon,” I said, joining her on the grass, “I have a question; what changed? Last bilunear perigee you barely tolerated me.”

 

Meulin smiled. It was not a unpleasant sight.

 

“My decision change is not your concern for now,” she said. “I am curious, though. I haven’t met many highbloods who give a damn about the wellbeing of lowbloods. You said you didn’t think they deserved punishment. Does this mean you think justice should be blind?”

 

“No. Of course highbloods should be given a bit more leniency. Had the woman been a sea dweller for example, I would have let them make what call they wished. Had her blood been bellow mine I certainly would not have hesitated to use force to subdue her. Keeping the blood order of things is very important. I only thought I could get away with that because she was only slightly higher than I.

 

Meulin bared her teeth at me and hissed. It was like the smile never existed, or at least had not for a long time. “Fine. Perhaps you are not as remarkable as I thought you were. Get out.”

 

She brought herself to her feet and went to climb the nearest tree.

 

“Wait!” I shouted, causing her to pause at the base of the trunk. “I’m sorry for what ever I did to offend you. If you want to tell me something you can.”

 

There was silence. Then, “With what you did today you might not be a lost cause. Come back tomorrow and I’ll show you my hive. But know this, if I decide you’re not worth teaching or if you don’t take to his lessons, I’ll kill you. I can’t risk anyone who isn’t committed pass his word to trolls who’ll destroy it. And don’t think the highbloods will care. Don’t think they’ll find me. You’re just a teal. You’re disposable to them.”

 

Then she was gone. I stood stunned. I wondered what she could possibly have to show me worth my life. I wondered who ‘he’ was. Despite her moment of softness, I had to remind myself that I was still dealing with a powerful and aggressive troll capable and willing to end my life with only a second’s notice.

 

I was playing with fire and I could far too easily end up burned.

 

I left the forest. The rest of my day proved uneventful aside from recording the encounter with pirates to my superiors.


	5. Entry 5-Date: 18.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait for this one. I had a lot going on and no time to work on it. I hope it came out alight, though. PLEASE NOTE THE TWO NEW TAGS!

The next bilunar perigee I arrived at the forest early. This was in part because I did not feel it necessary to reapply bandages. Most the wounds had been reduced to crusty, dark teal scabs. They crisscrossed my bruised and discolored back.

 

I brought my meal with me rather than eating it at the bakery. I also had a spare in my sylladex for Meulin. As I crossed into the tree line I decided not to switch my cane in favor of a stick. If Leijon had an issue with me having it out I would have changed then. She did not mention it.

 

It took longer for her to arrive than it had for the past few days. If I were to guess it was probably an hour before she dropped in front of me. Her bare feet hit the ground softly, only a few crinkled leaves betraying her movements. A long red ribbon, or perhaps it was a scarf, hung from her hand. It trailed across the teal grass like a crimson snake.

 

When I asked what its purpose was she said, “If I’m taking you to my hive it’s going to be on my terms. And my terms involve you being blindfolded. I’m not letting you track your way back later.”

 

She held out the fabric and I, with slight hesitation, accepted it, taking note of her yellow nails. She had allowed them to grow very long, to the point that they had become sharp and talon-like as troll fingernails tend to.

 

I unequipped my glasses to fit the cloth over my eyes.

 

I asked, “What if I am able to trace my way back by simply walking there?”

 

Looking back I should not have said anything for after a moment of consideration I heard her come closer. Without warning she lifted me off the ground and folded me over her shoulder at the waist.

 

“This works much better because now I don’t have to go by ground. Nice idea, Latula.”

 

Before I could voice a protest I heard the sound of claws digging into bark. She climbed the tree easily with her one free hand, the other was holding me up. Being carried upward wile blindfolded was quite disorienting, although it didn’t compare to what came next.

 

I found myself clinging to Leijon’s back as best I could as she launched herself from branch to branch. I recall it felt a bit like riding Pyralspite, but with the feeling of falling and blindness mixed in. At least when I ride my custodian I feel confident I will not be dropped.

 

I am not sure how much time passed before we descended from the branches. She was not delicate in putting me down, rather she more dropped me than anything. I hit the ground with a soft thud, accompanied by quiet groaning as she lightly kicked my side.

 

I carefully pushed myself to me feet, wobbling on the way up. Not being able to see had disoriented me, along with not having touched the ground for a few minutes.

 

“Come on,” Meulin’s voice came from further away than I had anticipated. “We’re walking the rest of the way. You can take the blindfold off.”

 

I untied the red fabric as instructed and said, “Why are we not traveling in the trees?” Not that I was complaining.

 

“The branches get too thick here. I can get through on my own but carrying you is just a burden. So we walk.”

 

We traveled for a good ten minutes before reaching Meulin’s hive. I don’t know if I can actually describe it as one. It was more of a cave, a cave with a moss curtain draped over the entrance. Dried blood trails led into the entrance. Some were set in the hemospetrum, but most were the bright red of nonlusi beasts.

 

“You can go in. But remember what I said, Latula,” Meulin said, standing at the mouth of the cave.

 

I remember how my mind raced as I pushed through the moss. If I was in danger of begin burned before this was jumping directly into the cooking pot. Why I did not turn back I do not know. I am glad I pushed ahead, however, because what was inside was beyond belief.

 

At this point I must warn any troll whom is not myself and reading this. To this point the knowledge I have shared as been odd or risky at best. From here forward, however, knowledge that you know this will mean death. I can not say you will regret my following retelling and remain truthful. If anything I hope you push further, but if you fear persecution, do not.

 

The walls were covered with a mixture of writing and beautiful depictions. There was not a bare space anywhere. Most of the space was covered with large passages and it was all ether done in charcoal or red blood. The paintings were gorgeous. Four trolls specifically reoccured consistently. One I recognized as Meulin Leijon, but a much younger version. This Meulin did not look wild or savage. Her eyes did not appear bloodshot, angry, or sad. She was not scarred as she was when I knew her. The other three I did not know and never truly met. I don’t believe I ever will. One, a gold blood, had two sets of horns and from what I gathered, powerful phiioniics. Another, older than the others, was a rainbow drinker with lovely curved horns similar to those of the pirate I quarreled with, but betraying a much older age. 

 

Then there was the fourth troll. He was depicted by far the most. He had no sign I could discern and his horns were small and very unimpressive, making it hard to guess his age. He looked kind, though. The way she painted his eyes made me first believe him to be a rust blood. I was not sure.

 

In a few places a red, or sometimes gray, sign appeared. It consisted of two circles on opposite sides. Curved lines ran over the top and bottom, connecting to one circle each. I wondered if it belonged to the troll with small horns. One such mark, a red one and by far the largest, had olive smears surrounding it. One such mark glistened slightly, as if it was made recently.

 

“What-“ I began, but I could not finish my thought. I turned to see Meulin who was running her hand down the face of one of the accurately proportioned images of the not-quite rust blood troll. I could only see the closed eye with the way she was facing, but I noticed small beads of olive slipping down from it.

 

She seemed to notice me staring and turned to glare at me with one yellow-orange eye. Her ears were down and flattened back against the side of her head. She snarled a bit as she wiped away the tears. I could have almost forgotten they were there, almost.

 

“This is all that I am going to teach you. I will have you read his sermons and wisdoms.” She turned away. “He brought his philosophy to many before you. But I think that in secluding myself and simply marking these stone walls with blood I’ve let him die a second time. Hardly anyone even remembers his name and those who do are ether highbloods who don’t care or lowbloods close to death. There are probably a few others aside from me who have his words written down, but none of them could possibly have his full scripture. There are a few legends, but what can they do compared to his true word?” By this point I’m not sure she was even talking to me. She seemed distant, but continued. “It’s been so many sweeps. I finished writing all his teachings the last dim season’s end. I was ready…” she trailed off. She may have said a bit more but it was mumbling and incoherent. I could not repeat it.

 

“But then you came sauntering into the trees in your ridiculously bright petticoat. I was worried you’d poke your horns where they didn’t belong. I was scared you would find this place after I left. I knew what the red and teal meant. I knew what the highbloods would do if they found this place. I intended to scare you off the first day, but for what ever reason you kept coming back. Then, last bilunar perigee you did something I didn’t expect. You judged a troll on their actions and not their blood. That was the message Kan-,” she paused “The Signless, tried to spread.”

 

Meulin started walking towards the back of the cave before pausing. 

 

“No,” she said. “You should probably know the story before we get into his speeches.”

I did not say a thing. I did not wish to pull her out of the moment. A funny thing to think when your life is on the line don’t you think?

 

“Porr-“ she paused again. “The Dolorosa is where his story begins. She’s the jade blood,” she added, tapping one of the painted trolls. “She told us the tale of how she found the Signless many times to please his constant nagging for stories when he was young. I was no better, though… She was sent on an errand into the depths of the tunnel systems. She never went into what it was. It was probably a dark task… But as she walked she came across a large hole in the cavern. She should have reported it as was appropriate, but her curiosity got the better of her. She explored the crater left by the fallen rock. Call it chance or fate but in that crater was a small grub. She had of course seen many grubs in her time and immediately wondered how this one had made his way so far from the main caverns. Then she noticed the color of his shell. Rather than a burgundy as she first thought he was in fact a bright red. His eyes were that color too when he was older…” she let out an amused huff. “They almost looked candy-like. 

 

“Needless to say his blood was mutant. The Dolorosa knew there was no lusus beast that would care for him. He would surely die. Now what compelled her to do what she did next, she never told us, but she at that moment decided she would care for him, which is of course unheard of. She named him… Well… I suppose that’s not important right now. She abandoned her duties and fled to the surface. 

 

“As it is of course forbidden for jade bloods to leave the tunnels she had not been under true moonlight for a long time. She always went on about how nice the surface was, especially the stars. Sometimes if I woke up during the day I would see her standing outside what ever shelter we had at the time. She always oddly enjoyed the heat of the sun. She never told us exactly how long she had worked in the caverns. I can only assume it was very many sweeps. She never returned to the brooding caverns…”

 

Meulin trailed off again. This time, though, she did not resume her thoughts. After a short moment of silence I remembered the existence of the grubloaf in my sylladex.

 

Assuming she had finished talking for the night I pulled it out and said, “I brought a meal for you if you would like it. I had forgotten about it until now. My fetch modus keeps food well so it should still be alright.”

 

Meulin eyed the food with a completely expressionless face. 

 

“I’m not hungry right now,” she said, turning away from me.

 

I spent the rest of the night exploring deeper into the cave. It was a dark place and there were no torches. I found myself once again feeling blind. In the few places where cracks had formed in the ceiling and moonlight was let in, I could always make out paintings or writing. I was left wondering how deep it went.

 

Time got away from me and soon the light from the cracks became harsh and bright. I decided to work my way back, not a difficult task with my memory.

 

Meulin was waiting for me when I arrived in the entrance cavern. She pointed to a pile of leaves, grass, and scraps of cloth that had no existed previously. 

 

“You’ll sleep there,” she said plainly and moved to lie down in her own nest, far away from the one she had formed for me. I was ready to protest the lack of a recoopracoon. I wanted to ask how I could be expected to sleep in a pile of plant matter. I decided against it.

 

As I lay uncomfortably in the the poorly cushioned pile I looked to Meulin. She was holding some form of dark cloth as close to her body as she could. I couldn’t make it out at the time in the bright light. I opted to ignore the sight and instead focused my attention on becoming more comfortable, an impossible task.

 

I did not fall asleep for a long time. When I did my day was tormented with terrible images without the comfort of soper slime to keep them at bay.

 


	6. Entry 6- Date: 19.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so incredibly long. I just didn't have much motivation to finish the chapter. But don't worry. This next one is one I've been imagining for a long time now so that might be out faster. I will finish this thing. It will just be a while.  
> I think after this there might be three chapters and a prolog left. But we'll see if that pans out.

I awoke rather unpleasantly the next dusk. The last burning ruby lights of day were filtering through the mossy entrance. Meulin was not present.

 

I lifted myself up, my back stiff and uncomfortable. I ran my hand down my spine and felt crusted blood dotting my suit. One of my wounds had opened as I slept. I decided to let it be. It had already closed up and was not worth worrying myself.

 

I equipped my cane and brought myself to a full standing position. A few pieces of moss and leaves clung determinedly to my suit and hair. I took time to pick them off.

 

As I was, and admittedly still am, unfamiliar with the forest I chose not to leave the cave. I instead opted to further examine the cave walls, this time taking time to read. The tone of voice varied. At times it was eloquent and beautiful. At other points it seemed to burn with frustration and rage. But it was always had an underlay of sadness.

 

The speaker, who I could only assume was the mutant from Meulin’s story, spoke of kindness and equality. Sometimes he seemed to be speaking directly about specific trolls, other times his words encompassed all of troll kind. It was all heresy. Some of the things he said disgusted me. A rust blood shaking hands with a violet? He sounded insane. And yet, something about it spoke to me even then. His blood did not belong. He had no place in the spectrum and that made it seem right for him to be able to evaluate it. 

 

One of the reasons decent legislasorators respect His Honorable Tyranny is his unbiased opinion. Of course we decide who is sent into his hands and it is exceedingly rare for highbloods to be thrown to his feet. At the same time he does as he pleases without regard to blood color because the black ichor running through his veins does not fall into our set spectrum. I sensed something similar from the words of the Signless.

 

Still. What he said went against the laws of justice I knew. Lowbloods are less than highbloods. To me it was a natural part of life that could not be changed. I’m sure you are thinking the same thing as you read this, but at this point you may as well continue. Perhaps I will be able to change your mind.

 

As I previously mentioned I was traversing the cave systems my teacher, and perhaps captor, knew as home. I had not eaten that night and, as I did not anticipate being held away from the lowblood town, did not think to bring extra food. I was and still am quite used to the comforts of reliably having at least two meals a day, something I don’t believe will change. I was quite famished. As you can imagine, there was no bakery in the middle of the Burning Forest. I resolved to make due with hunting.

 

I had never attempted capturing my own food before that perigee. My custodian was perfectly capable of caring for itself and rejected any food I bought it when I was young. She caught meals for me occasionally as well so I never had a reason to learn. Trolls are a naturally predatory species so I assumed it could not prove too especially difficult.

 

The green moon was close to full that night. The pale, lime light flickered through the pink leaves of the trees, tapping the forest in a muddy glow. This color was in turn made red by my glasses. I opted to take these off to give the white beasts I planed to hunt more contrast.

 

Locating prey was not difficult. The sharp sense of smell my custodian schoolfed me about did not fail me. I quickly located a sharp musk wafting from what was probably the west according to the moon. Once I noticed the near gag-inducing sent it was not hard to track. As I marched through the trees I found myself wondering what could possibly be emitting such a horrid stench. I questioned if it was worth hunting at all. Just as the reek began proving near unbearable something smashed hard into my side and threw me into the dead leaves of the forest floor.

 

All air was harshly forced from my lungs. Even once the weight was lifted from my chest I lay heaving for a minute or two as I attempted to regain the oxygen in my body.

 

As I worked to get my lungs functioning normally again, a familiar voice beside me hissed, “What the FUCK are you doing? Do you have a death wish, Pyrope?”

 

Meulin was crouched nearby. Her claws her equipped and her working pupil was huge. She was looking franticly around as if she expected something to come out and tackle her too.

 

“What-“ I gasped, “are you- talking- about?” I grabbed at my chest and coughed again. I could feel reopened wounds on my back stinging again. I was suddenly scared that leaving the cave violated our agreement. I was fully convinced of my impending death.

 

“Did the toxic reek of sweat not give any red flags? The musclebeasts are passing through the forest right now. They show up every Dark Season Equinox and Bright Season End . It fills the forest with their disgusting smell.”

 

I do not believe that warranted such aggressive measures,” I snapped at her, my breath having returned. The possibility of my death being lifted calmed me down from my fight or flight response.

 

“Well you weren’t exactly quite in your approach. A musclebeast was bound to hear you and understandably kill you. Why did you leave the cave?” Leijon sounded like she was calming down too. Her weapon disappeared with quiet mechanical zing and she sat down heavily.

 

I noticed she wasn’t wearing the beast head she usually had draping her from and instead had a grey cloth wrapped around her neck. It had dark red splotches in a few places and large rips in others. It looked like rust blood but dried rust blood should be darker than that. I never asked what it was so don’t expect an answer further in.

 

“I got hungry so I was trying to hunt,” I told her calmly.

 

She glared at me and hissed, “So you decided to just follow the strongest smell? Are you missing a few connection grubs or have you really never hunted before?”

 

“I never had any need to,” I said. Which was true, although I was feeling rather embarrassed by that point.

 

Meulen was silent for a moment and stared at me unblinking. I returned the gesture.

 

“Do you want me to teach you?” she eventually said under her breath.

 

I was taken aback by the offer. Of all trolls I did not expect this savage oliveblood, what ever she had been through to make her that way, to offer such a thing.

 

“I suppose?” I said, confused.

 

“Good. Follow me. Away from the killer indigo lusi this time?” She walked off before I could respond. I did not have much choice but to comply.

 

I could hardly catch the smell of the musclebeats by the time Meulin decided to stop. She turned to me and said, “Rule one. Be quiet. I could hear you stomping through the dead leaves and things a mile away. Keep your hips lower to the ground. It will distribute your weight more evenly.” She pushed down on my left shoulder, forcing me into a more crouched position. I followed her instruction and spread my feet out more for balance.

 

“Next thing to keep in mind. Don’t just go for the first thing you smell. You have to find prey you can actually kill. I think a nice, easy, cerulean trihorn would be suitable. There’s a small herd that feeds nearby.

 

She led the way through the trees silently. She moved efficiently and low and made next to no noise. What sound did come from her steps could easily be mistaken for wind shaking the branches. I tried to mimic her movements, which was not a simple task. She might as well have been a part of the trees. Each time I stumbled, her head momentarily turned in my direction before turning back to the task at hand. We walked for a while and over over time my movements became more precise. I did not compare to Meulin. I still do not.

 

I made it though. We arrived on a heard of about fifty, which is small for trihorns, who tend to travel in herds cloister to a hundred.

 

“Alright. First we need to find one that’s young or injured,” Meulin whispered. By this point we were crouched on the edge of the group. “Trihorns are easy but only if you pick the right target. Full grown trihorns are quite deadly, just like all the creatures on this planet.”

 

I gave her a sideways glare. This did not sound as simple as she promised.

 

“That one,” she said, point to one of the smaller ones. It’s horns were not fully developed yet and it moved with a slight limp. I assumed it suffered a birth defect.

 

“What about the mother?” I whispered back, motioning my head to an older trihorn keeping watch next to the wiggler. The two horns at the corners of her eyes stretched out to her nose before turning away from her and out to the sides. The one in her forehead angled forward, ending at a deadly point. Her plated back glowed with green moonlight, hard and impenetrable.

 

“We just need to separate the young from the herd. It won’t be hard with two of us,” she said before starting to outline her plan.

 

~~~

 

I used my elbows to crawl around to another side of the herd, very aware of how soiled my petticoat was becoming. Once I was in the location Meulin had instructed me to be, I glanced over to her. She was hunched over where the two of us had started. Once she noticed me watching she turned and gave me a curt nod as a signal to begin.

 

I pulled my cane closer to my chest, the bladed end would prove useful. I gathered myself, then let out one of the loudest screeches I could pull from my wind chute.

 

The trihorns let out a collective roar and began to stampede. The sound of their paws was far louder than any noise I could ever hope to create. It almost matched the thundering cries of my custodian, but not quite.

 

Meulin erupted out of the bushes the second they began to move. The cat-like howl that left her lips carried even over the sound of stomping feet sent chills down my spine. After a moment’s hesitation I followed her out.

 

I traveled as quickly as my legs could carry me but it didn’t compare to the speed of my feral companion. I was further astounded as  her speed increased further when she dropped to all fours, a feat I knew was possible but had never seen a troll execute. I admit I was rather 

transfixed by her feline-like movements. Even from a distance I could sense the raw power of the muscles working just under her thinning skin. Despite her age, she cleared the distance between her starting position and the target trihorn before I had even surpassed five yards.

 

She pounced at the young herbivore and her weapons appeared on her hands midair. She landed on the beast’s back with a hiss only just audible over the stampede. As she dug her claws in, thick cerulean blood seeped out past the metal and the young let out a pained cry.

 

The second the sound left the creature’s lips the massive female halted and turned with a howl that could curdle musselbeast milk. This did not phase me. 

 

By this point I had finally reached the battle. Meulin was distracted with the faun which was trying desperately to throw her off despite her weapons digging in up to their hilt.

 

I myself lept for the mother and dug my cane deep into her side. Adrenaline raced hot through my veins. I jerked the blade down, forcing the creature to focus on me rather than her dying wiggler. I narrowly avoided being skewered by the horn on her four head and the one on the left of her face caught me in the shoulder. Lukewarm teal blood slipped down my arm as I delivered a sharp kick into the beast’s third eye. The female howled and bucked, thawing me off. My cane remained lodged in her side.

 

The mother was preparing another charge when a call from the heard halted her. She let out another howl and began shuffling back, unfortunately with my cane still stuck inside. I never saw that thing again. It was a shame but it gave me room to replace it with the dragon-headed one I have now. I think it’s much more elegant as it currently is.

 

From the ground I looked quickly to Leijon who had dragged her prey to the ground bleeding and broken, but still struggling. Meulin sank her teeth deep into the struggling faun’s neck. Cerulean blood spurted from the side of her mouth as I watched with some degree of fear. She gave a sharp jerk of her head and ripped a huge chunk of throat out, causing a thick spray of blood to shoot from the dying beast. The flesh dangled from Meulin’s mouth. Deep blue ichor dripped down her chin and onto her chest.

 

She watched with what appeared to be eagerness as the creature gurgled and struggled, fighting fruitlessly to survive past the now missing piece of wind shoot. Its movements quickly slowed and evidently stopped completely.

 

I glanced at Meulin, who was standing over the dead beast with it’s throat still in her mouth. I was hesitant to approach her. A troll in a feral state is incredibly dangerous.

 

“Meulin?” I said quietly, pushing myself off the ground. “Are you alright?”

 

The olive blood opened her mouth and let the hunk of flesh hit the ground with a sickly splat. She growled at me with blue-stained teeth and a mouth almost overflowing with liquid gore. She crouched low over her kill with her naturally clawed finders spread threateningly. Her eye shown orange in the night.

 

I took some steps back. She was not in her right mind at the moment. If I am being honest I am not sure she ever completely was when I knew her, but this was different. She was a savage defending her kill. I took a seat in the blood-stained grass which did not do much to change the amount of blue blood already spattering my cloths.

 

The creature that was not Meulin glared at me as she ripped off bits of trihorn to eat for herself. She focused mostly on the dead beast but often looked up to make sure I had not moved from my seated position. As she ate I noticed she was not wearing the bloodily, gray cloth anymore.

 

Eventually the ancient troll pushed herself back from what was left of the body, somehow even more bloodily than before. She was not a dainty eater to be sure. At the very least her eyes were back to a normal yellow.

 

“Sorry about that, Pyrope,” she quite literally purred while beginning to lick the blood off her hands. “I suppose I get a bit nuts when I hunt. It hasn’t been a problem for a long time. Help yourself.”

 

I was less wary at that point and got up to tear away a few pieces of flesh for myself. I considered taking the time to make a fire as I am a troll who prefers cooked meals, but decided against it. It would have been too much of a hassle, especially with my injured shoulder which was starting to hurt with the adrenaline draining from my system. I settled with eating it raw and bloody. Not bad but not exceptional ether. I could have done without the texture.

 

Meulin’s aggression reminded me of my purpose for being out in the middle of a forest with a crazed olive blood.

 

“Meulin, my I ask you something?” I said, feeling now would be as good a time as any to bring it up. 

 

“Yes, Lasorator?” She replied, still cleaning up blood.

 

“Do you know why I came here a few nights ago?”

 

She paused her work and glared at me with that single yellow and olive eye. “I assume it was to arrest, or more appropriately should I say, kill the dangerous highblood killing rouge?”

  
“Yes but do you know why they sent me now rather than when the attacks were first being reported?”

 

“Enlighten me.” It was hard to tell if she was amused or irritated.

 

“The purple blood you killed, or rather, maimed.” She went stiff. “He was not only a longstanding member of the High Blood’s inner circle but all the pure calculated savagery of the death. He was still alive when you did all that to him. Highbloods bleed out slow.”

 

“Maybe if you weren’t so ignorant you’d fucking know why I would hate anyone even remotely close to that clown bastard.” She spat the words. “It’s not your fault, though. They never teach you anything. A whole war wiped from history because empress pink fins said so. A whole piece of Alternian history, my history, ripped from existence. They made it like none of us ever existed and they sent you to finish the job didn’t they! Couldn’t have anyone figuring it out now could they?”

 

She was crying.

 

~~

 

I followed her back to the cave in silence only broken by a few hiccups of suppressed sobs. It was odd hearing her like that after the blood bath from a few minutes ago. I know what I said now. I dug far too deep without realizing it. 

 

I was so very ignorant. This entire species is. Our justice system is broken. As it means it means nothing to me. I have my own form of justice now. Maybe that’s why they still find me amusing. Best to keep it that way.

 

We arrived at the cave and she directed me to my makeshift pile. She began to move towards her’s as well but paused stiffly before she made it half way.

 

“I need to go get something. Don’t follow me,” she said. Her voice sounded numb.

 

I determined it best to listen and allowed myself to slip into another rough sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the picture of Meulin here: https://dragonssparkle.tumblr.com/post/149821933159/i-decided-to-illustrate-a-scene-from-my-current
> 
> This is my art blog and I'll probably be posting some sketchy pictures of Meulin and Latula from this fic soon that won't make it here.


	7. Entry 7-Date: 20.B.P/3.D.S.E/1524.C

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. So this took forever. Sorry. I didn't have much motivation to write this one. But the next three (maybe with a fourth epilogue) I have been thinking about since I started writing this thing so those /might/ come out sooner? I honestly have no idea.  
> I hope you like dialog, character development, and exposition because there is a lot of it in this chapter. I tried to make it fluid though. Hope it works. Enjoy!  
> (I also drew something for the previous chapter if you haven't seen that yet. Go check it out. : P)

When I awoke the fatal sunlight was still burning strongly through the moss curtain. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and took in the now familiar cave around me. Meulin was not in her pile. She was instead hunched over by the large painted sign I noticed when I first arrived, the one with olive streak marks.

 

She was fully absorbed in her work and did not notice my approach. She did not look at me as she raised her left arm and ran her inner wrist along the wall, leaving behind a green blood trail.

 

“Mother Grub, what on Alternia are you doing!” I shouted, startling Meulin. She turned to snarl at me, claws splayed and teeth bared. Blood was trickling down her arm. I quickly retrieved item #6be853 from my sylladex and a roll of soper bandages appeared in my open hand.

 

Meulin seemed to have processed my presence by this point and waved me away saying, “I don’t want your medical help, Latula. Let me finish my ritual.” As she said this she picked up a jagged piece of metal with her injured hand, blood already stained its surface. She was about to press it into her other wrist when I rashly reached over and grabbed it from her. Not a smart move on my part as quickly grabbing it caused it to cut my palm, allowing a small trickle of teal to slide between my fingers.

 

“I’m not letting you hurt yourself while I watch. I admit to not fully comprehending what you have been through but this can not be a healthy practice to continue,” I scolded.

 

“You don’t understand,” she growled in response, reaching for the metal. “I need to do this. I need to suffer as he did. Maybe then I’ll be able to connect with him.”

 

“What in the empire are you rambling on about, Meulin?” I demanded, growing impatient. “Why was the Signless so damn important to you? How did he suffer? You keep reciting this ridiculous, cryptic muscle beast shit! ou wanted to teach me about the Signless so fucking teach me for once. What makes you think this,” I gestured with the weapon to the blood-smeared wall, “is ok? I do not understand any of this.”

 

“No you don’t!” she shouted back. “So give me the damn metal so I can finish this. Then we can have another lesson if you’re so damn desperate. I’m making up for something I didn’t do. I’m making up for not dying with him as I fucking should have thanks to that god damned coward!” She was lunging for the weapon at that point, getting in scratches with her claws when she missed.

 

“Who was he, Leijon? He can not possibly have been just some rebel to you. The way you talk about him, I am aware you were not just some scribe following the things he said. What was he to you?” I was nearing shouting by that point.

 

“He was my fucking quadrant mate you cold blooded tyrant! Now give me the weapon!” She lunged and ripped it from my hand, cutting both her palm and my own. She paused, watching the teal and olive blood drip slowly on the floor, mixing to create a grayish green.

 

“What quadrant were you in? Hearts?” I asked softly, the adrenaline of the fight bringing to ebb away.

 

“None of them. All of them? I’m not sure. Our relationship was different,” she whispered, dropping the metal to the floor. “what would he think if he saw me now…” Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes, but she was silent.

 

“I want to take you somewhere today,” she said suddenly, whipping away the tears. “It might help you understand more.”

 

I nodded and offered her the bandages again. She pushed my hand way and stalked over to her pile. I decided not the push it. At her blood color her wounds would have clotted quickly. It would be alright.

 

“It’s a long walk. It’ll probably take at least two days of walking if we started soon,” she called from her pile. “If you’d like to go into town for some supplies I won’t stop you, as long as I watch from the trees to make sure you don’t go running off.”

 

I nodded enthusiastically. It did sound appealing to other trolls again. It felt like sweeps since the last time I actually talked with someone other than Meulin.

 

~~

 

Meulin insisted I wear the blind fold again. It was, just as before, nauseating to be thrown through the trees without my sight. She trailed me almost to the edge of the trees before retreating upwards. The occasional rustle of leaves told me she was still watching.

 

Walking back into the cluster of hives was rather unnerving. It had been some time since so many eyes followed my movements. I do not believe the trolls living there expected to see me again after my disappearance. They probably thought I was dead.

 

One rather daring olive blood called to me from the other side of the main path, “Figured you were gone, teal blood! What? Did The Guardian decide you were too jade for her tastes?”

 

I paused, not out of anger or disrespect, but out of confusion.

 

“What did you call her?” I demanded, glaring at the mossy-blooded troll from behind my glasses.

 

“The Guardian? That’s the tile we use for her around here. But I suppose you highbloods wouldn’t think of her that way,” he snaped at me.

 

I bristled slightly at the contempt but opted to ignore him. He had a right to his own opinion. Asides, he was not entirely wrong in his judgment of highbloods. Strangely enough I agreed with him. She was a guardian of sorts.

 

I purchased my food quickly and returned to the forest. There were other jeers, one rust blood even poked me, thinking me a ghost of sorts. I had not realized how used to being alone with Meulen I had become.

 

“Did you find everything ok?” a voice called from above as I entered the trees. She jumped down and started to walk with me.

 

“Yes I believe I have enough supplies for the journey you described, although I did hear a quite interesting piece of information you may enjoy.”

 

“And what’s that?” she asked, not sounding like she had much interest.

 

“It would seem the village residents have created a title for you.”

 

Meulin paused. “What?” she asked incredulously.

 

“The Guardian, they refer to you as. Quite a nice name if you ask me.”

 

She whispered the word back, not quite speaking to me as much as she was to herself.

 

“Well,” she began, beginning to walk again, “they don’t understand my motives but I appreciate the respect.”

 

“I recall you saying titles were ridiculous.”

 

“Oh between friends absolutely, but if it’s just strangers calling my that it’s alright.”

 

We walked in silence for a while after that. She did not bring up the possibility of traveling through the trees again, which I was quite grateful for.

 

After about an hour of only the sound of footsteps and calling beasts, Meulin said, “I had another title once, you know.”

 

This surprised me, although I suppose in hindsight she did mention it at some point before this moment. 

 

“Is that so?” I responded, hoping she would continue the thought.

 

“Yes. Our followers decided to call me The Disciple, since I kept record of all his speeches. There were other disciples of course, but I was his closest and the most known among his believers. I was also the only one who who wrote every speech or sermon he ever gave. I still remember every single one.”

 

I considered this for a moment. “The Disciple. I believe that title suits you much better than The Guardian. You say you can recall each sermon he gave?”

 

“Of course. How else would I have been able to rerecord them all on the cave if I didn’t remember them completely. After writing one down I’d read it over and over. He was a very graceful speaker, a lot of charisma. Of course I’m sure some of his followers wished he was a tad bit cleaner in his language.” She laughed, something I had never heard her do. It had a very pure chirping to it despite sound a tad rough.

 

“Would you mind reciting one for me as we walk?” I had of course read many of what must have been his words in the caverns of Meulin’s hive but I wanted to hear her version, having been there when they were given.

 

“Oh they’re all very long winded aside from… a few. I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me ramble for hours…” she paused. “I suppose I could recite the one he used to inspire Mituna to join us, he was the gold blooded phionic.”

 

“That would be nice if it is not a bother.”

 

“Not at all It’s been a long time since I was last able to recite something of his to another troll. Let’s see, how did he start…” she took a deep breath. “My friend I hear and understand your fear and loyalty to those who have treated you in such a way, but I beg you listen to what I have to say. This is not even close to an acceptable way to treat a troll, blood color be damned…”

 

She continued to quote a gorgeous speech encouraging a lost and broken helmsmen to break his bonds and fight for the freedom of all trolls in his position and worse. It was beautiful but unfortunately so long I don’t remember the whole thing. I could never recite it past a few lines. It was much more moving than the inflectionless words written on the cave walls, nor was it one I had read previously.

 

She talked for a long time. If this was one of The Signless’s short speeches I would be interested to learn how long his long ones tended to go on for. When she finished I couldn’t help but watch her with my mouth hanging slightly open. I noticed a few stray olive tears sliding along the scar and wrinkles of her face.

 

“Sorry,” she said, wiping away tears.

 

“It is perfectly fine.”

 

With that I was left to my own thoughts. She had a habit of not speaking for long stretches of time, something she must have developed after sweeps of solitude. This was find by me. It left me with time to think about what she had said, what he had said.

 

The one line I remember clearest, the one that stuck with me, was “I see not a hierarchy, but a spectrum. I see a circle, where no troll is better than the other simply due to the color that runs through their veins or the fins on their face.”

 

I had never considered the similarities of rust to fuchsia. I played with my HexCodeModus a bit as we walked, taking note of the color spectrum and how closely aligned it was with our blood, all be it a few colors such as bright yellow green were skipped. If the fuchsia end were connected with the rust start, it would create a satisfying circle of color, of equality.

 

We did not speak again until the moons were nearing the horizon. Meulin spoke up, “we should find shelter before the sun comes up. I don’t want to be caught and cooked in it’s heat. There should be a cave around here if my memory serves me right. I go this way a lot.” She paused to look around for a moment. “This way,” she said trekking off sharply to the right.

 

We arrived quickly, as promised, at a small cave. It wasn’t especially spacious inside although I could see it being quite suitable for a single troll. For two, it was a tad cramped, a fact that didn’t appear to trouble Meulin. I on the other hand took some time to truly fall asleep.

 

I dreamt of war, and blood, and burning.


End file.
